


A Gentleman's Kiss

by Tarnit



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Party, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, mistletoe trope, subtle background pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8540290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarnit/pseuds/Tarnit
Summary: After the countless trials and hardships of their mess of a voyage, the crew of the Lost Light don't hesitate to take part in an Earthen festivity for the holiday season. Even if their adaptations of it stretch a little far, Rung finds himself thoroughly enjoying the cheerful air, sharing his joy with even the ship's most reclusive mech.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 2015 secret santa I never got around to posting on AO3; enjoy! :)

Observing others as individuals, pieces of a greater whole, was one of Rung’s favourite past times. What better time to take part in an idle hobby than whilst in the middle of a party?

A majority of the crew had packed themselves into Swerve’s bar, nearly crammed to standing room only as friends joined the regulars for the festivities. Granted, the celebrated holiday was not of Cybertronian origin, but the war ragged mechs were not going to turn down any chance to drown their horrors in high grade.

Most of them, anyway. The psychotherapist had attempted to situate himself in a corner with a small, fizzing drink, only to be dragged to one of the larger center tables by a firmly polite Trailbreaker. Greeted by warm welcomes, and a few correct calls of his designation, Rung could not see the harm in remaining with ‘the captain’s favourites’, as this bunch had been nicknamed by the rest of the crew.

As the cycle rolled on, however, the forgettable orange mech found himself slowly being nudged to the back of the conversation. He didn’t mind; sipping on his midgrade still, he smiled just behind its lip.

Some mech had found, or bought - possibly stolen, Primus forgive them all - long ropes of twinkling lights to drape around the bar. The multi coloured strands twinkled almost peacefully, reminding Rung of the private cycles he had taken for himself when he was younger to wistfully stare at the stars. Doing so was an entirely free activity to him now, of course, but that did not make those quiet off cycles any less special in his long memory.

Above the door, a garish bundle of organic fauna dangled innocently waiting for passersby. Rung wasn’t certain what its purpose was, but it was curious to watch others around the bar lapse from conversation whenever another poor soul wandered too close to the green leaves.

At their table, Chromedome and this new Rewind were leaning together, the minimech all but in his partner’s lap with the large tan arm draped protectively over him. Rung could see the mnemosurgen’s cabling twitch in his shoulder as he fought to keep his hold lax and less possessive than he may have liked. By the flash of the archivist’s visor, however, the aborted motion had been noticed and the effort appreciated as Rewind nuzzled momentarily into the curved chassis.

Across from the pair, Skids was leaning drunkenly over the table, waving at the bar. Whether he was hoping for another a drink from Swerve, or merely the attention of the exuberant bartender, Rung could not ascertain from the sloppy motion. Though he could guess confidently on which to place credits.

The therapist quickly had to take another sip, covering the inappropriate smile that tugged at his lips as Skids overbalanced..on top of Whirl. In an impressive tangle of limbs, the pair tumbled off the bench and onto the sticky floor. Thankfully, before the easily aggravated helomech could spoil the high moods, Trailbreaker lifted them both to their pedes and sent the inebriated mechs separate ways.

Who could have guessed their ship’s resident drunkard would make such an astute head of security? Rung was pleased to see the leaps and bounds in Trailbreaker’s confidence since someone had taken a chance to believe in him.

About to take another sip, he let out a small “Oh!” as he realized he had come to the end of his drink. Using the group’s distraction to slip away, the therapist stepped around the drunk dancers, the buzzed conversationalists, and almost delicately hopped over one overdone sleeper. Unfortunately too small to assist the unconscious mech, Rung made an internal promise to keep an optic out for him, if he could.

Working his way back to the table, small cube refilled and glossa eager to feel the funny little zing of the flavoured midgrade again, he was stopped by a gentle touch at his elbow. He glanced down at the hand, purple in colour, and followed it along an equally vibrant arm to be welcomed by a wide grin.

“Greetings, Nautica,” he returned the smile, patting her fingers with his free hand. “Enjoying the festivities?”

The femme, if possible, smiled wider, trying to subtly nudge him away from the table. “Hello Rung! Yes, the party is the same as any other, but its purpose is a curious one. I’ll have to see if someone has any reading material on the organic species this holiday comes from. But that’s besides the point; there’s another here who would benefit from your personal knowledge on it.”

At his confused glance, she abandoned all pretences, and gently grasped his helm to direct his sight across the room. Sitting alone at one of the booths, colourful drink in hand, the captain of the Lost Light sipped in silence and watched the festivities around him.

“Megatron?” Rung couldn’t deny the skip in his spark beat as he tried to turn his questioning look back to the femme. “Why would he seek my intel? Has he not been to Earth?”

Slightly affronted at the huff Nautica blew from her vents, despite her still cheerful expression, the therapist was nudged towards the other mech until he walked on his own.

“Just go say hello!” Was the final call his way before his friend and fan vanished into the crowds once more.

Deciding to heed her words, as Megatron did look particularly lonely in that corner, Rung moved across the rowdy room with the skill of one who had been ignored at parties his entire life cycle. Hand resting on the table as he finally approached, the little orange mech offered a smile.

“May I join you?”

Megatron shifted to the side with a nod as Rung seated himself delicately next to the captain. The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, before the larger of the pair spoke up with an amused rumble in his engine.

“It is not safe for someone of your size and stature at a party like this.”

With a chuckle, the orange mech shook his helm, sipping his drink. “Most venues are not. Much as you, however, I have seen far too many ages pass for something so simple to be my undoing.” His laughter smoothed over to something far more fond, and he gestured a small hand towards the table he had recently vacated. “Besides, I have far more friends looking out for me now, than I ever have before.”

Following his glance, Megatron hummed, optics sweeping over the gathering of mechs, all of which seemed oblivious to Rung’s departure from the table. “Very attentive, they are,” he said, dryer than he had intended.

Thankfully, the comment only drew another quiet and rare bubble of laughter from the psychiatrist.

“They are not to fault for my uncanny ability to remain unseen. Besides, I have another friend at my side now, do I not? I am safe.” He smiled, patting the much larger hand next to his, spark flicking as his easy comment drew a pleased look from Megatron as well.

“Indeed you do,” the captain chuckled, turning his hand over to hold Rung’s delicately within his far larger grasp. Absently, Megatron’s thumb rubbed over the small knuckles.

“Have you been enjoying the festivities?”

The little psychiatrist nodded, trying to keep his fluster to a minimum as he gently squeezed the other’s hand. In an attempt to hide what was sure to be a blush under his glasses, Rung looked out over the energetic crowd and replied with a somewhat wistful tone.

“Though my life has been long, I have seen relatively few species in person. Reading of them, and meeting them, are two very different experiences. I would like to visit Earth some day, to see how this holiday was meant to be cherished. However, seeing the crew have reason to celebrate, rather than mourn, lifts my spark greatly.”

Following his gaze, Megatron tried to see the room full of Autobots as Rung did, but found his optic lenses seemed to be made of a different glass. Regardless, he did have to agree that seeing certain Cybertronians at peace did bring an equal calm to his own spark.

Then the once warlord blinked, wondering when his gaze had wandered back to Rung.

Before he could think over it further, the therapist turned back to him, inching a little closer. Processor turning over quickly, he tipped his helm towards the door.

“While I am glad you can find your own enjoyment from this party, I was wondering if you would join me for a more private celebration elsewhere?”

A peal of laughter escaped Rung, quickly smothered behind his free hand. “Why Megatron, we’ve only just truly met,” he teased, amusement flickering through his field. As the captain tried to cover his spluttering in explaining what his offer had meant to extend, the little Autobot merely patted the thick arm with that warm smile of his. “I would love to join you.”

Settling, assured he had not offended his company, Megatron stood from the table. Rung close behind, the pair made their way through the crowd in a manner that allowed the easily missed Autobot to follow near as the crowd parted for the much larger captain.

With a glance over his shoulder as they neared the door, the gray mech smiled. “I discovered a delightful observatory, on deck-”

“OOOHHHHH!”

Both older mechs jumped as the crew seemed to chorus their excitement as one. Looking back to the room, they were unnerved to find nearly every pair of optics, still able to focus, centered on them.

Gaze narrowing in a threatened glare, the captain was unprepared for Rung to tap on his side with a call of his designation.

“Um, Megatron? I do believe we have been caught beneath the organic flora. I am still uncertain as to what that pertains, however. Do you know? It seems to be quite a situation to be in.”

Following the therapist’s gesture, he looked above them to the green bundle dangling innocently from the door frame. Megatron knew well what the plant entailed. It had, oddly enough, been one Earth custom his soldiers had made fun partaking in. He was sure though, that Rung would not appreciate the Decepticon adaptation of mistletoe.

Before he could explain, however, a drunken voice began a slurred chant, prompting the entire room to call out, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Rung could feel his fluster returning. Oh. So that’s what the human’s tradition was surrounding the seemingly harmless little flowers. For once all optics were on him, and he wasn’t too sure he liked the overwhelming attention. Biting his lower lip, a hand eased around his own, drawing it away from where he had clutched it to his chassis.

Megatron’s optics reflected the calm reassurance in his field as the captain leaned down. Rung’s hand was raised in turn, his vents hitching as warm lips gently pressed to his knuckles and remained there a moment before pulling away almost reluctantly.

The disappointed whines and calls that ‘they didn’t do it right!’ rang from the bar, but the therapist was, for once, deaf to the voices of the crew. Unable to look away from the hypnotic red optics, Rung was drawn closer to the possessively protective field before Megatron led him away to the blessed silence of the halls.

Speechless, the little Autobot allowed himself to be guided through the ship. Furtive glances were snuck the captain’s way as Rung not so subtly squeezed the larger hand still holding his own. The smaller mech could feel each minute twitch and flex as Megatron took great care to control his mighty strength and not accidentally crush the slender digits; a gesture Rung was very grateful for, as he had already lost his thumb once on this journey.

So wrapped up in the interesting dynamic the once lord of the Decepticons forever carried about him, the therapist was taken by surprise once again as they came to a stop.

“We’re here,” the captain rumbled, amusement on his lips. Leading Rung inside, he gave the smaller but a moment to adjust to the far darker room before he scooped the little mech into his arms and took a seat.

The sight of the fluster under those glasses was one he would remember for a long time to come.

Yelping as his pedes were taking out from beneath him, the orange mech was about to splutter in question when his optics finally caught the display above them.

Eternity, it seemed, stretched before them. The vast, glittering galaxies filling their view in a harmonious dance of light and life. Though the covering had been retracted completely from the observatory’s transparent ceiling, Rung could not take enough in. Subconsciously reaching a hand up, as if to brush the cosmos like a swirl of paint, he relaxed more comfortably into the larger’s lap.

Looking back down to Megatron, his vents hitched in a gasp and his hand curled to gently cup a warm, gray cheek to better gaze into the depths of the crimson optics.

Eternity smiled in return.


End file.
